JК
The Floodgate :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 33 из 212The fool had taken on Keturah's daughter as an apprentice!
Because of his high office, Procopio had heard of the scandals surrounding Keturah, but he had forgottenabout it after the runaway wizard and her bastard child had been captured and dealt with according to law. Recently, though, Cassia, the jordain who had served as King Zalathorm's chief counselor, had told him that Keturah's daughter still lived. Since then, Procopio had made it a point to discover the identity of this girl-a task made more difficult by the murder of Cassia. He had lavished money, magic, and influence to ensure that the secret Cassia confided to him remained his alone. This was a risk, but one he counted worth taking. It gave him a hidden blade to use against Basel Indoulur, should the need ever arise.
Procopio, though a prudent man, rather hoped it would.
He walked out onto the parapets of his villa's walls to watch the conjurer's approach. Avariel came on fast, her three gaudily colored sails curved tight, her prow thrusting boldly into the winds.
As the ship neared, Procopio made out a small, fourth sail trailing more than a ship's length behind. Puzzled, he picked up a mariner's glass and trained it upon the skyship. A long rope ran from the stern of the skyship to a small figure, and from there to a bright silk sail that caught the wind and held the wind-dancer aloft.
He'd heard of this sport but didn't personally know anyone daft enough to try it. He slipped a thicker lens into the glass, the better to study the small figure. What he saw made his lips thin in a tight smile.
So this was Keturah's daughter. From this distance, the wench looked more like an urchin at play than the offspring of the beautiful, fallen wizard. The girl's wind-tossed hair was cropped as short as a boy's, and the form beneath the tunic looked nearly as straight and slender.
Procopio trained the glass upon the deck. There stood Basel with one of his ubiquitous apprentices. Both watched the girl with wide, delighted grins. Their admiration was not uncommon-after all, this «urchin» was the hero of Akhlaur's Swamp.
Stories of that battle were spreading like spilled wine, All who heard these tales glowed with pride, from the most magic-dead rothe herder to the mightiest of wizards. Such is the magic of Halruaa, that even a street waif untrained in the Art can subdue a terrible monster! Ballads to that effect were sung in the square, in the festhalls, in the palaces. He had even heard this tale intoned in the plainsong of Azuthan clerics!
Procopio wondered how Basel would respond if he knew that his new apprentice was a thief, a vagabond, and, worst of all, a wizard's bastard.
It was a delightful image to contemplate.
Because of his high office, Procopio had heard of the scandals surrounding Keturah, but he had forgottenabout it after the runaway wizard and her bastard child had been captured and dealt with according to law. Recently, though, Cassia, the jordain who had served as King Zalathorm's chief counselor, had told him that Keturah's daughter still lived. Since then, Procopio had made it a point to discover the identity of this girl-a task made more difficult by the murder of Cassia. He had lavished money, magic, and influence to ensure that the secret Cassia confided to him remained his alone. This was a risk, but one he counted worth taking. It gave him a hidden blade to use against Basel Indoulur, should the need ever arise.
Procopio, though a prudent man, rather hoped it would.
He walked out onto the parapets of his villa's walls to watch the conjurer's approach. Avariel came on fast, her three gaudily colored sails curved tight, her prow thrusting boldly into the winds.
As the ship neared, Procopio made out a small, fourth sail trailing more than a ship's length behind. Puzzled, he picked up a mariner's glass and trained it upon the skyship. A long rope ran from the stern of the skyship to a small figure, and from there to a bright silk sail that caught the wind and held the wind-dancer aloft.
He'd heard of this sport but didn't personally know anyone daft enough to try it. He slipped a thicker lens into the glass, the better to study the small figure. What he saw made his lips thin in a tight smile.
So this was Keturah's daughter. From this distance, the wench looked more like an urchin at play than the offspring of the beautiful, fallen wizard. The girl's wind-tossed hair was cropped as short as a boy's, and the form beneath the tunic looked nearly as straight and slender.
Procopio trained the glass upon the deck. There stood Basel with one of his ubiquitous apprentices. Both watched the girl with wide, delighted grins. Their admiration was not uncommon-after all, this «urchin» was the hero of Akhlaur's Swamp.
Stories of that battle were spreading like spilled wine, All who heard these tales glowed with pride, from the most magic-dead rothe herder to the mightiest of wizards. Such is the magic of Halruaa, that even a street waif untrained in the Art can subdue a terrible monster! Ballads to that effect were sung in the square, in the festhalls, in the palaces. He had even heard this tale intoned in the plainsong of Azuthan clerics!
Procopio wondered how Basel would respond if he knew that his new apprentice was a thief, a vagabond, and, worst of all, a wizard's bastard.
It was a delightful image to contemplate.